


Just Another Christmas

by petyrbaaaeeelish



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 10 Minute Writing Prompt, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaaaeeelish/pseuds/petyrbaaaeeelish
Summary: In the past, Sansa would have attended the annual Lannister's Christmas Party for fun, but this time it is strictly for business... or so she thought.





	Just Another Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for my Aidan/ Petyr Baelish Secret Santa challenge, and it is dedicated to tumblr's @confectionettiballoon.
> 
> Their wish: "I really like the basic stuff, I just like Aidan as his silly self, but in like a modern GOT setting with a slightly much more mature Sansa. I don't really mind his hairstyle because I love all his hairstyles! XD"
> 
> I tried to keep it short and sweet for you with some flufff, so I hope you like it. Wishing you, and everyone else who reads this a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year :D

Sansa pulled out her phone for the tenth time tonight to find no messages displayed on her phone, and the devastating fact that it was just after eight o’clock. It was too early to leave, and if she wanted to make a good impression with the Lannister family she would have to stay a little longer. Sipping on her glass of water, Sansa looked around the empty table to see her co-workers had already taken to the dance floor. In previous years she would have joined them, but she was older now, more mature, and she knew she had to do everything in her power to break the glass ceiling and move up the ladder to be at the top of the company.

Her plain black dress showcased her ambitions, and the way she tied her hair up in a fashionable braided updo proved to everyone around here that she was purely here for business. Sansa placed her cup down on the table and rose from her seat, feeling the need to mingle with a few of the executives to get on good terms. She knew it was late enough for them to be filled with alcohol, but not enough for them to feel the full effect. Tywin Lannister caught her eye first, as she approached the high table set up at the front of the room. The proud lion couldn’t even break a smile for her, but no matter, it was enough for him to allow her to take an empty seat next to him.

“You are not drinking,” he cooly observed, as though he had been watching her. Pale blue eyes scanned her visage with indifference, hiding the secret thoughts that were prying inside of his mind.

“I’m driving.”

“We are rich enough to afford a cab,” he noted, and twisted his wrist around to glance at his watch to note the time. “Early enough to have at least have one.”

“You are not drinking.”

“No, not tonight.” He looked to the left where the empty chairs beside him lined up with a significant meaning. “I have to keep an eye on my children.”

“And grandchildren,” she slyly replied, and glanced at the center of the dance floor where his grandson, Joffrey, was already dancing inappropriately with some of his co-workers.

“So, you see my predicament,” he relayed with a soft sigh. “But I don’t have that problem with you.”

“No, sir.”

“Ever since you left that secretary position, you’ve been a changed woman.”

“Well, I had to take up more responsibility,” Sansa told him with half a smile. “And I am willing to take more, whenever you are ready.”

“I might have an opportunity.” He rubbed his hand down the front of his plush velvet blazer, that was as startling black as the dance floor under the flickering blue and yellow lights. “A business trip.”

“In the new year?” she inquired, knowing the Christmas Holidays had put a stop to all business affairs for the present time.

“Have you ever been to Japan?” he asked me, while completely ignoring my question. “I will have a translator go with you… Missandei.”

“She speaks Japanese?”

“At least seven languages,” he replied, while his eyes watched his unruly grandson anxiously as he stumbled across the dancefloor. “That’s why I hired her. Baelish will be going with you too.”

“Oh.”

“I know your not a fan of him, but I told him to keep his hands off you.”

“I see.”

“I thought my son was bad, but it looks like Petyr should get an award for being a womanizer.”

“Do people still say that?”

He leaned back in his chair with a prideful air about him. “I do,” he declared, after he finally turned his head in my direction. “I could place a guard on you, if that is what your worried about.”

“I will make it clear that I’m not interested,” Sansa reaffirmed, and stood up straighter in her seat to prove it. “Business will always come first.”

“You have to live a life too,” he proposed, with a harmless smile. “But not with Baelish,” he laughed, and then turned his attention back to his grandson. “I think Joffrey needs some time to cool down, will you excuse me?”

Sansa watched the President of Lion’s Bank descend the platform steps and call over two burly looking henchmen to drag his very drunk grandson off the dancefloor. There was a time when Sansa would have taken pity on him, but Joffrey’s behaviour to her over the last few years made it all feel bittersweet. She knew she had a pretty face, but she wished men would look beyond that and take note of her brilliant mind as well. Joffrey only saw her body; Lord Tywin saw her ambition; the rest of the company saw her as a privileged child that only earned a spot so high up in the company because of her name and connections.

Sansa rose from her seat and smoothed over her soft black dress, ensuring there was no wrinkles in it before she descended the steps in her sky-high heels. She was almost down the bottom when she felt a presence beside her, and a hand offered in front of her chest with an array of silver rings on almost all of the man’s fingers. His palm faced upwards in silent greeting, and when Sansa turned to her right, she was met with a handsome grin from the man she least wanted to see right now. “Need a hand?” he asked in his familiar Irish brogue, and she could have sworn that sly little smirk was meant for her alone.

Sansa kept her hands to her side as she declined his offer and made every effort not to fall down the stairs for the rest of the way. Baelish kept at her side till she reached the bottom, and only then positioned himself to face her. “I heard we are working together in the new year.”

“Yes, and I’m not entirely sure why.”

“I have the right connections,” he relayed with an even wider smirk. “But that always seems to be the case.”

“And not all of them are good,” she insinuated, knowing he also had some connections with low-life criminals, though she never had enough evidence to prove it. He belonged to the underworld, she knew, and so did everyone else in the company, but his alluring power somehow kept his co-workers in line- never having the guts to confront him about the rumours, or the friendly relations he had with legal staff that continued to step into his office after work hours.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” he laughed, though there was a wicked glimmer in his grey-green eyes.

“You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, but they fell the moment Sansa stepped away from him. Baelish followed her, though he left enough space to not have him perceived as a threat. The dancefloor was hot and crowded as she made her way past it, and when she finally spotted her seat, Sansa realized she didn’t want to sit at an empty table alone anymore. The briefest pause gave Baelish enough room to position himself beside her again, with a look that told her he wouldn’t leave anytime soon. “How’s your mother?” he drawled low, almost in a breathless manner that made Sansa look up to reach his own.

“Fine.”

“She’s still living up north?”

“No, she is in the suburbs. They only go up to the cottage in the summer time.”

“And you don’t join them?”

“No,” I said with an air of suspicion. “I’m too busy.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said from the corner of his mouth, and all of the sudden his boyish good looks were gone, and a different sort of man was staring at her. “You work long hours.”

“I have too.”

“Too long.”

“That is a bit hypocritical,” she pointed out. “I heard you work just as much hours as Tywin.”

He smirked at her and maneuvered himself to stand directly in front of Sansa. She could smell his dark musky cologne; see the way his dark navy suit fit snuggly against his lean form. He was handsome, only a fool would deny that, but he was dangerous- so very dangerous, like a shark under water. At times he would act silly to less suspecting victims, but she knew what kind of man he truly was behind the mask.

“Every time we are together, we talk about work,” he relayed in a sly little voice. “We should speak of something else.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, before he stroked the top of his facial hair over his lip, and then let it run down all the way to the bottom where his pointy goatee was. “I feel like I know nothing about you lately.”

“We have been working in the same company for four years.”

“And all that time you’ve been quietly climbing up the ladder.”

It was Sansa’s turn to smile, secretly admiring the way this man knew what she was doing, even when others were ignorant of her ambitions all along.

He took a small step forward to lean into her space. “If you ever need me to put in a good word…” Sansa had stopped them there, literally placing her hand in the center of his chest to prevent him from going any further. He looked down at her hand, considering its implications before he closed his mouth for good.

“I don’t need your help.”

“It was only a suggestion.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Consider it… a Christmas gift.” She hated the way he licked his lips at her, the way his eyes flickered over the whole of her body for a single second before he forced it upwards again. There was a slight tremble to his lips, as if he had something at the tip of his tongue.

“I’m over Christmas,” she told him. “Consider me the Grinch.”

“Then I might have to put you in a mood.”

“The only thing I need is some space.”

“Space,” he repeated dryly, as though I had offended him. He half turned away from me before he looked over his shoulder, and then quietly muttered, “I never liked the Grinch.”

Sansa felt a twisted sense of peace as she watched him walk away, but also hated the fact that she still felt a never-ending attraction towards him. She knew he felt it too, and that it was her who put necessary obstacles in the way from it going any further. It never helped that he played hot and cold with her in the past, like a yo-yo their relationship that always went up and down to the point that she snapped the string in two and called it a day. She was younger than, more easily persuaded by his cunning words and suggestive gestures. Sansa was older now, and she knew she could play the game just as well him… if she wanted too.

She found her footsteps leading her forward, heading out of the dance hall entirely with a quick look over her shoulder to see if Baelish was watching her. _Got him,_ she thought, and couldn’t help but smile as she swung open the doors and stepped into the long empty hallway. The lighting was low, and she instinctively felt safer in the quiet empty hallway with a long glass wall that showed the heavy snowfall outside. Sansa waited for him for about five minutes, pulling out her phone and idly searching the web until she heard the door open and a dark shadow pass on through. She hoped it was Baelish, and when he stepped into the dim moonlight she felt her cheeks burn a bright red by the way he was glaring at her.

“I thought I told you I wanted space,” she quipped, but found her feet moving forward until she was standing directly in front of him.

“I didn’t know you were out here,” he lied, while the lids of his eyes squinted at her with delight.

“You saw me leave.”

“Did I?” Sansa breath froze in her chest the moment his arm moved forward and he wrapped it around the bottom of her spine, pressing her chest upon his own in a meaningful gesture. He caught her by surprise, and now she was helpless as he leaned his face forward with slick wet lips.

“You did,” she warned him in a stony voice, but found the last of her resolve break once he connected his lips with hers. She melted into them instinctively, and found her hands clinging to the top of his shoulders and the crisp white collar at the back of his neck. Baelish kissed her deeply, reminding her of days gone by, and she knew what he wanted once both of his hands arrested over the sides of her hips in an arduous way. “I missed this,” she breathed out reluctantly, and hated the fact that she found herself leaning the lower half of her body into his hardened crotch. He moaned into her mouth at that exact moment and reached up a hand to clutch at her braids in the back of her head, probably messing up the whole process as he dug his nails into her scalp.

“Sansa,” he deliciously said, and found he parted his lips for a moment to nip his teeth into her bottom lip. He leaned his head downward to kiss the length of her exposed neck, and Sansa found herself stepping on her tippy toes with pleasure as he sunk his teeth into her skin. “Why did I ever let you leave me?”

“Your drunk,” she tried to say as an excuse, but she knew Baelish was just as sober as she was. His nails barred itself into the side of her arm as his lips trailed down to her collarbone. She breathed out frantically, feeling the whole of her body beginning to react by his incessant touches.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“I’m going home.”

“I’ve never been to your place.”

“You’re not going,” Sansa told him, before she settled her feet to the floor and grounded it for some level of self-control. “We’re not doing this again.”

“It’s been a while,” he noted, as he moved himself away.

“A good long year.”

“Have you been counting?”

“No,” she quickly shot out. “And you got over me quickly.”

“My cock is in high demand,” he chuckled, but quickly regretted it once he saw the look on Sansa’s face. “You’re the one who ended it.”

“You were taking advantage of me. You only wanted information from my boss, because I was their secretary.”

“I was genuinely interested in you.”

“Sure,” she shot out with sarcasm.

“You know its true.”

“You have a good way of showing it.”

“I did, when I had you on your bosses table.”

“And then made sly remarks to Stannis,” I criticized. “Until he started to put two and two together.”

“He never figured it out.”

“He did, and then you got rid of him,” She said with respite. “And if it wasn’t for my sudden promotion I would have-”

“Ratted me out,” he relayed with a heartfelt smug. “Come on, Sansa, we both know you couldn’t do it.”

She bit her lower lip at him, considering if his words were painfully true. “I’m not the same girl I was before,” she warned, and took a few steps back until she could rest herself on the glass wall behind her. “I’m older… wiser.”

“ _Almost_ my equal,” he drawled out in a menacing way. “But not yet.”

“I would say the opposite.”

“You know I almost wish there was a mistletoe here, with all of this sexual tension.”

“The only tension is the one inside of your pants, and I’m not helping it.”

“Sansa,” he droned in a low voice. There was a pause, and he laid his hands on his hips as if he was the one in command. “You are playing a game, and I’m tired of it.”

“I was loud and clear when I ended it.”

“Very.”

“And you left me alone, so why are you back?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Cut the bull shit, Baelish! You see me all the time.”

“At boardroom meetings, but that’s different.”

“Maybe cause you have so many different girls walking in and out of your office, that you never have the time to see me.”

“Oh, I saw you,” he admitted, and then leaned the whole of his weight on his right foot. “And I saw how jealous you are too.”

“I’m not jealous.”

He raised his eyebrows at Sansa playfully, before he turned his face away. “They are just there for business.”

“I’m not stupid!”

“ _Most_ of them are there for business.”

“That sounds better.”

He walked towards Sansa with his hands still on his hips, in a vain effort to make him larger than he was. He had to look up at her, however, since the heels gave Sansa additional height. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“I’m going home.”

“Its far.”

“I like the drive.”

“You should stay here… in the city.”

“With you, presumably.”

“It’s a suggestion.”

“The answer is _no._ ”

“My number is the same, if you change your mind.”

“Then I will text you ‘No.’”

“Then I’ll ask you again,” he teased, as he rocked side to side playfully. Sansa stopped him with her hand on his shoulder and steadied him with a single look. “What do you say?”

“No.”

He inclined his face forward, letting it be a few inches away from her. “How about now?”

“No.”

He puckered his lips and eyed Sansa with a tempting look. “Now?”

“No.”

Baelish hands swooped in and brought Sansa's face forward. He kissed her hard, breathlessly, and though she stood perfectly still she had found her body slowly crumbling into his form until her hands slid around the back of his neck to kiss him back.

“Now?” he wheezed, once I kissed the side of his face where she could still smell his familiar after shave.

“No.”

“Sansa,” he scolded, and took his hands to both sides of her face to steady her. “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Because I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“You are the only one I care about, believe me.”

“What do you want, Baelish?”

“Call me _Petyr._ ”

“What do you want?”

“You!” he exclaimed, with his hands still resting on both sides of her cheeks. “I always wanted you.”

“You want the thing between my legs.”

“No, I want more than that,” he argued, with his face unbearably close to her. “You were right when you said you are older and more mature, and I find that _attractive._ I think I want you now, more than I ever had before.”

“You- you really mean that,” Sansa stammered out to both of their surprise.

“I do,” he answered her in a raspy voice, and tilted her head downwards to kiss her brow. He remained silent after that, and all Sansa could hear was their heated breaths and the gentle gust of wind blowing against the glass window behind her. Sansa leaned her head downwards to catch his eyes, noticing how black they were in the dim lighting of the hall. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… I would be a fool to let you back in my life again.”

“Things could change.”

“You are the same man as before.”

“Perhaps.”

“You are.”

“But you could make me better.”

“I need a man that is good to me,” she retorted. “One that is good and honourable.”

“It sounds like your father, but we both know you don’t want that.” Baelish tilted his head to the side slightly, angling it in the way to make him look at her only from the corner of his eyes. He knew his words cut Sansa deep, and when she let out a low sigh, he returned his whole gaze on to her. “Just for this Christmas, let me back into your life.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve never done it before.”

“Why only this one?”

“Because I’ll probably fuck it up again,” he laughed. “But I’ll try not too.” He lowered his head to his chest as he took a step forward, while muttering, “When you first stepped into my office you were twenty-two… and now, you’re twenty-six.” His arms enclosed around her form in a tempting gesture as he tilted his chin upwards to be leveled to Sansa. “And what a fine woman you have become.”

“I’m glad you realized that.”

“And I’m glad… you chose to wear this granny dress.”

“Baelish!”

“So, no one would ever set eyes on you.” He ignored my gasp and let out a low chuckle in reply. “Oh yes, with this on, I can have you all to myself!”

“This is _not_ a granny dress.”

“Its something your mother would wear.”

“Maybe.”

“It is. I like you older, but not that much.” His hands stroked my back feverishly, eager to feel my body as his eyes retained on mine. “And I thought I asked you to call me ‘Petyr.’”

“The only time I say that is in bed.”

“Hmmm.” He puckered his lips at me in a fiendish way. “That is true.”

“So, its Baelish for now.”

“For now,” he droned, and leaned forward to quickly peck my lips. “How about we leave and go somewhere more comfortable?”

Sansa slipped out of his arms but quickly offered her hand for him to hold, as she started to make her way back to the dance hall. “Like your bed?” she suggested, with a playful squeeze.

“Or my couch.”

“Or your car.”

“See, you remember.”

“Its kind of hard to forget.”

“I was hoping to jog your memory,” he taunted, as he leaned into Sansa’s space a little more.

“You really are the worst.”

Baelish stopped Sansa in her tracks and positioned himself in front of her, with his hand still possessively holding her own. “Merry Christmas, Sansa,” he hushed, before he drew her hand upwards and pressed the back of it against his lips. She stood there breathless, as he straightened his back and took a long, hard look at her. She blinked nervously, feeling timid under his heated gaze. “I’ll make sure it’s a Christmas you’ll never forget.”

Sansa let out a reluctant smile, caught off guard by the arduous wave of feeling that suddenly came over them both. The music and laughter from the other side of the door came out in a low hum where they stood, and the only thing she could focus on was the way Petyr Baelish was looking at her. “In that case, Merry Christmas, Baelish,” she quietly teased, hoping it would break the hypnotic stare coming from the man before her. “And- and a Happy New Year,” she stammered out nervously.

“Yes,” he breathed, as he stepped into the last of her space. He raised his hands upwards slowly, until they pressed on either side of Sansa’s cheek to bring their faces closer together. “Yes,” he repeated almost in a whisper. “I’ll make sure of it.”


End file.
